Winterthorn
by ladyrose837
Summary: Sequel to "Last Chance Before the Dawn". In the height and depth of Winter in Boston, a young woman is once again confronted with her past, and her betrothed, who just happens to be a fearsome Goblin King. (Warning: Rating will range from T to M.)
1. Prologue

**}~Prologue~{**

_Dost not the wind whip through the branches in a most terrible fervor, on this day of gray?_

_Sparse trees inhabit the open space, glittering with snow, loveliness; everything reminds me of her._

_This dreamscape, this world apart from my own, our own_

_Frightens away the ghosts hidden in my memory_

_Naught to bleeding away, gone awry,_

_The fateful thirteenth hour such a short millenium ago._

_Cascades of ebony tremble o'er each muscle fiber existent in my cursed being,_

_Emerald diamonds spark within my blood_

_Forcing my heart to constrict, and my eyes to tear_

_With the bluest of salt water-droplets-_

_Stinging this most deceptive of faces_

_Which had eternally cursed me with troubles._

_The ivory skin has pulled taut o'er my bloody flesh,_

_Singeing the person but not the man_

_In my grave, I shall sing her praises_

_But not before I kiss her lips_

_Formed from the purest of rose-petals,_

_Dripping with the sweetest of honeys._

_Ah, but if I could only remember_

_The times when I dreamt of her countenance_

_Day upon night, night upon day_

_When the skies had turned to amber-gold_

_And the stars were filled with weeping;_

_Their echoes reverberated across time and space- the end of their tears I could not trace._

_No crystal sphere could e'er replace_

_The livid light of her gentle face._

_My sweetest Sarah rests upon_

_The dead of night, the dusk and dawn_

_No longer shall I walk alone_

_Once I meet her gaze upon my throne._

_Beauty defined in the most simple of women_

_Yet, the most defiant and resolved._

_I could not imagine her otherwise,_

_Though my blood matches her pulse_

_In our tempests of few and far between,_

_But once they come, oh, how her tears gleam._

_I am cold, my blood wears thin_

_Beneath this most useless of skins._

_But, ah, I see her far ahead-_

_My lady faire, garbed in deep red._

_How much longer must I walk_

_Until there is no room to talk?_

_Until our bones mesh together like velvet,_

_Crushed into the ground like sand_

_The hourglass shall never turn,_

_And no clock shall ever chime again_

_For whence she comes, for whence she came,_

_The time that's there doth ruin my game._

_Her body filled with warmth, her blood_

_Could quench my thirst forevermore._

_The eyes that peer into my soul_

_Undo me past the point of no repentance, no regret_

_-Her soft skin, like milk poured o'er this purest snow_

_Could hereafter fill my senses with weeping._

_How does such beauty find its way to a man,_

_Granted I be no man at all?_

_How could the fates discover such spirit_

_In the ways in which I most wish to fall?_

_How could she even dare to see_

_This most horrid side of me?_

_-Here she comes, treading lightly_

_Down the path illumined brightly_

_By the warmest of seasoned suns_

_-She knows it to be me; she runs._

_My Sarah, love, your gentle truth_

_Could bring me fevers from my youth._

_She pauses from six feet apart_

_(Can she not see my bleeding heart?)_

_Cheeks flushed soft, most appealing_

_And her breath comes hard but lovely._

_Eyes glistening with sheer life_

_And in my anguish, I moan inside._

_Into my arms she makes her way,_

_I know not why or how_

_But she loves me, and I suppose_

_I can be selfish now._

_Our lips collide into the stream_

_Of flowing beauty evergreen_

_-And, until the day I die,_

_Nevermore will I dare to sigh_

_Unless it be in the throes of "yes"_

_Or from sweet contentedness_

_From her heart intertwined with mine_

_In the most sacred, blessed sense._

_My Sarah love, my Queen, my Pet,_

_You have been most Heaven-sent._

_The drifts of snow may flutter past,_

_But we feel no chill_

_For affection warms the heart most dear;_

_And here we stand, strong in mind and will._

_~This be the day firstborn_

_Of the account of Winterthorn~_


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

She sighed. It was morning.

Sarah Williams reached over to kill the alarm on her phone. She'd had it set to play "Walkin' On Sunshine", thinking it would help start her day on a high note. Upon awaking, she'd immediately regretted the decision.

She swung her legs over the side of her bed, putting on her glasses and stretching lazily. The room was bone-cold. _Guess that's what happens when I lose my job_, she thought. _I can't pay the damned heating bill_.

The chimes perched outside her bedroom window ping-ed and pong-ed in the whistling wind.

Sarah dragged herself across the floor and into the bathroom, closing the door and staring into the mirror, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the automatic fluorescent lighting. Her skin looked ashen and old, hair greasy and mussed. She rubbed the sleep-seeds from her eyes and took out her toothbrush.

"Same old grind," she mumbled, before putting a bit of Crest on the brush and shoving it in her mouth, rapidly brushing and swirling the minty-fresh liquid around and around, cursing when the bristles cut her gum. Sarah spit out the toothpaste into the sink, watching the mix of green and red make their way down the sink's drain. "God help me."

A few minutes later the girl emerged, taking in the bleak scene around her. She was currently living in a hole-in-the-wall apartment, roughly forty-five years old and smelling of must and age. The wallpaper was a tacky orange and green stripe, peeling and cracked in places, especially around her small handrawn portraits of Stevie Nicks and Robert Plant. That's why she'd placed them there, to look at beautiful faces instead of shabbiness. She couldn't stand shabbiness. It encompassed every aspect of her life. Sarah was currently attending a liberal arts college part-time in order to work the other half of the week. She only got about five hours of sleep a night, and six if she was lucky. There were only two rooms in the apartment, and the bathroom hardly counted as a room.

Sarah went back over to her bed, sitting down and picking up her phone again. The time read 7:12am, Tuesday, December 22. Three days until Christmas. She'd only bought a gift for Toby, and had sent it to her parents' house four days ago. There weren't any other people she especially cared for enough to buy presents. Even if there were, Toby's gift had cost her thirty dollars, and that was the most she was able to spare. It was an antique toy train set, which she had wrapped in browned newspaper and tied with a bright red ribbon. Sarah prayed that her brother would like it. He was six now, and incredibly bright. She was the proudest sister in the world.

In fact, her brother was really the only bright spot in her life, despite him living roughly seven hundred miles away. Boston was a great city, but it wasn't her city. She wanted, more than anything, to go back home.

The wind continued to whistle and whip violently around her windows. Her apartment was at the edge of a long row on the outskirts of the city, a place not half as historical or interesting as the North End or Beacon Hill. Sarah had been lucky, getting two windows in her room instead of one. Though, in the winter, it made the room twice as cold. She scrolled through the weather and the news quickly, and got up to choose an album for the morning. "Rumours" seemed appropriate. Placing the well-worn vinyl onto the turntable, Sarah delicately placed the needle on the line just before "Dreams" and turned the knob to adjust the volume. She smiled as the blank space crackled, and turned to her small closet as the song began.

**Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom**

_Jeans or corduroy pants?_

**Well, who am I to keep you down?**

_The cords. The wind would go right through the jeans._

**It's only right that you should play the way you feel it**

_This long sweater will look nice…_

**Listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness, like a heartbeat drives you mad**

_A beret, maybe. Green or brown?_

**In the stillness of the memory of what you had**

_No, neither. Berets don't look good on me anymore._

**And what you lost**

_Nothing looks good on me anymore…_

**And what you had**

_God, I miss him so much._

**And what you lost**

_That man. The Goblin King._

A small tapping sound at her window awoke Sarah from her daze. She whipped around only to find the chimes hitting the glass. Sarah threw a hanger down onto the floor and leaned against the wall.

"What in hell am I doing?" She mumbled, running a shaky hand through her hair. "I can't do this anymore. None of this is me, who I am. I'm a princess, dammit."

Sarah laughed dryly.

"You wish."

She ripped off her pajama shirt and stared at herself in the rusty full-length mirror. Her skin was far too white to be considered attractive. Her breasts, she supposed, were at a decent size, but she hated seeing them anyway. At least her stomach was flat, but there wasn't anything special about that…She began rubbing lotion into her arms, shivering as the contact made the air feel extra cold. Sarah let her long hair fall down over her chest, and she breathed heavily.

_He was just some sort of recurring dream, right? That whole thing couldn't have been real..._

_He said he would be watching me._

_He said he would come back for me._

_His eyes wouldn't lie._

_His eyes…_

Sarah heard herself moan, and she quickly removed her hands from where they had been. She saw herself blushing in the mirror. Why was she blushing? No one was watching her. Right? She could do that sort of thing if she so chose. She was an adult now.

"Fuck that," she sighed, hooking a lacy bra around her chest and pulling the thick sweater over her head. She hadn't touched herself like that in months. Gee, what a day this would be.

A second alarm went off on her phone, this time one that sounded like a fire alarm.

"Shit, no!" Sarah groaned, quickly pulling her pants up and racing to her sock drawer. Her Civil War History class started in fifteen minutes, and it took her twenty minutes on foot to get there. She almost fell over as she put on her socks and stuck her feet into her boots. Sarah shrugged on her parka, placing a newsboy cap on her head, grabbing her backpack and a PopTart, and racing out of her apartment door.

Had she looked down, she would have noticed a small, sparkling envelope resting on her doormat, with her name scrawled in large, curling letters on the front. A white feather was lying next to it, but when Sarah had left, the feather had swirled upwards behind her feet and conveniently attached itself to her bootlaces…

* * *

_Hello everyone! Welcome to my new story. As I stated in the summary, this is a sequel to "Last Chance Before the Dawn", though, to be quite honest, if you haven't read that one yet, don't freak out. You can still read this one as well. There won't be too many connections made between the stories, but I love having my previous audience attached to this one as well!_

_Thank you all for your praise of the poem. I really appreciate it, and hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I hope to be updating more frequently now that I am on winter break!_

_Comments and criticism would be most appreciated!_

_Thanks so much!_

_P.S: If you guys haven't checked out "Darkness and beyond", please do so. She just started this story and would appreciate lots of feedback!_

_P.S.S: Lyrics quoted from the song "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac (a band who I just might be seeing in the spring! Squee!)_


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Philip Yeasmith?"

"Here," a redheaded man said just as Sarah came in through the classroom door. The professor raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. She took a seat next to a girl with bright purple hair.

"Hi," she muttered, plunking her backpack down next to the desk and removing her cap. The girl shrugged and looked back at her laptop screen. Sarah sighed loudly and removed her parka.

"Sarah Williams?"

"Here," Sarah said quickly.

The professor cleared his throat. "I was calling on you to answer a question, Miss Williams. Attendance is finished."

"What?... Oh. Sorry. What was the question again, professor?"

A couple of stoners in the back of the class snorted.

"I haven't asked the question yet, Miss Williams." The man's eyes were beginning to darken.

Sarah's insides crumbled. This day was just getting better and better.

"I apologize, Professor Hemingworth," she said, but he had already called on another student. Sarah quickly pulled out her laptop and hid her red face behind it. There was no point in paying attention today. The girl sitting next to her shot her a slightly sympathetic look, but Sarah continued to stare at the screen. It was the last day of the semester, and she had no finals left. She could get through this, somehow…

* * *

Snow was falling down on the city in chunks, fluffy and delectable, resembling air-puffed bits of icing. Quincy Market was alight with Christmas decor, shoppers were racing all around with large bags, and tourists were snapping pictures of themselves with the human "scultpure" dressed as an elf perched on a box outside of the building. Sarah's stomach was growling like a small beast, but she had taken the extra ten-minute walk in order to experience the hustle-and-bustle she always enjoyed witnessing in the Market. There were so many food vendors lining each side that she simply couldn't make a decision of what to eat. Everything was terribly expensive, but after having such a rough morning, she reasoned that buying herself a good meal would be a worthwhile investment. Sarah finally came across a Chinese vendor, and after handing over a precious $8.50 for her noodles, she grabbed an open seat in the center of the Market and dug in.

The time passed quickly. Once she was done eating and staring off into space, Sarah pulled out her phone to check the time. It was almost noon, and she had to be back at her apartment in half an hour to meet with the landlord.

_Come on already,_ she thought. _Can't I just have some time for myself?_

_You can,_ a voice answered. _You can have all the time in the world, if you want it._

Sarah froze. "What the hell?"

"Hey," a man looked at her, frowning. "Can you watch your language, please?" He was seated with his two young daughters a couple places down from her.

"My apologies, sir. Have a nice day!" She picked up her trash and backpack, racing away from the table and to the trash bin. Sarah felt her face go hot for the third time that day. She was never embarrassed about anything.

* * *

After a frantic race through crowds of people on multiple icy streets, Sarah finally made it back to her apartment with two minutes to spare. Relieved, she turned the key to the main door and began to trudge up the stairs when she noticed something white hanging from her boot. It certainly wasn't snow… a feather? She picked it from the bootlace and held it up under the dim hallway lights. The feather was the whitest thing she'd seen all day, even counting the snow. The quality was pristine. It obviously came from no ordinary bird. It couldn't have been a dove, where would she have found a dove in Boston?

…Could it be…?

Sarah's heart pounded as she approached her door. There was an equally white envelope sitting on the welcome mat, sprinkled with glitter and sealed with black wax. Her name was written on the front in the fanciest scrawl she had ever seen. It was certainly not befitting for so plain of a name as hers.

"Well, who's that from, dear?" The landlord, Mrs. Webb approached her with crossed arms and a smile. Sarah returned the smile and shrugged, picking up the envelope in her red hands.

"I can honestly say I have no idea, ma'am!"

"Would you like to open it now? Our meeting can wait a minute."

"Oh, no! It's perfectly all right! I don't wish to waste your time!" Sarah quickly removed her keys from her coat pocket and stuck one into the handle. Of course, it wasn't the right one. She laughed nervously and removed it, jamming the second one in and successfully turning the knob. Mrs. Webb stared at her quizzically, but followed her into the room.

"Please, have a seat." Sarah motioned the woman to her dusty loveseat and tossed her backpack onto her bed.

"Thank you, Sarah. This won't take too long. I was just hoping to check up on everything. I know how you've been struggling…" The landlord upturned her nose at the sight of the less-than-satisfactory condition of the carpet.

"Oh, I'm fine, really. I'm very thankful to have a roof over my head, and such a caring landlord-"

"Honey," the woman interrupted her sternly. "I know your heat got shut off. I can feel it myself! Lord knows I'll be able to see my breath any second now."

Sarah shrunk into the other side of the loveseat and sighed, staring at her rugged boots in shame. "I lost my job last Thursday. I wasn't expecting the bill to come until today, but it came last Friday instead, and I was two dollars short…"

The woman placed a gentle hand on Sarah's back and cleared her throat.

"I was in your position once… in fact, I was expecting my firstborn at your age. I barely had any money. I was trying to attend business school at the time, and feed myself and my unborn child, and keep a warm roof over my head all at once. In theory, it sounded simple, but I was quick to learn that even the basics are hard to maintain when you're this young."

Sarah buried her face in her hands and held back tears. "I thought I had it under control, Mrs. Webb. I really did. But I got distracted at work one too many times. My boss noticed, and he fired me on the spot. I'm just not used to this sort of thing. I miss home. I want to be with my brother. He's the only person I really care about right now… I barely even care about myself…" her voice cracked, and she burst out into hard sobs. The older woman continued to pat Sarah's back gently.

"It's all right, my dear. You'll be able to pull through. I know you. Your stubborn resilience saves you, no matter what."

"May I… may I light some candles tonight, Mrs. Webb? Just a few?"

"Well… all right. Light as many as you need. I trust you, Sarah," Mrs. Webb gave her a look of confidence and rose from the sofa, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt and walking to the door. "You rest now, my dear. You'll be able to find another job soon enough."

Click.

Sarah wiped the tears on her parka sleeve and removed it gingerly. The room seemed terribly empty without Mrs. Webb in it. She sat there for a moment, wallowing in the depths of her despair. She could try to get a job for the next couple of days at a local store. Many places needed some last-minute Christmas help. But this was the city, and there were probably a hundred other starving college students who needed the job much more than she did. Sarah knew that she really needed to do something, but all she could manage to do was sit in her broken sofa and stare at Robert Plant's face on the wall.

A few minutes later, she noticed the fancy white envelope laying on her coffee table, and the next minute it was in her hands. The paper was crisp and smooth. A few pieces of glitter fell into the crevices of Sarah's corduroy pants. She traced the swirls and lines of her name with a trembling index finger. Sarah. Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah. In the next moment, she was running a fingernail underneath the wax seal, breaking it without ruining the intricate emblem. Inside the envelope were -surprise- more glitter, and a black card. She opened it, gasping. An invitation was hand-written in the same scrawl, except smaller, and in bright gold ink.

**_To Miss Sarah Katherine Williams~_**

**_Who is Most Cordially Invited to Attend the Annual Christmastide Ball_**

**_At the Redheart Hotel on New Cambridge Street_**

**_Thursday Evening at 7 o'clock_**

**_~Your eveningwear will be arriving shortly._**

"What?" Ten thousand thoughts came bursting into her mind, removing the sleepy cobwebs from the corners of her imagination. Who could this be from? What eveningwear? What would it look like? Why have I never heard of this hotel? What type of ball will this be?

There was barely any time to properly organize her thoughts. Almost immediately after reading the invitation, there was a sharp knock on her door, and the sound of scrambling feet. Sarah rose from her loveseat and approached the door in a daze. The ugly wallpaper swirled around in her visage, and the scent of must panged inside her nostrils. Her hands could barely find the door's handle, and once they did, it seemed to be ages before she finally got it to open.

But she didn't regret it once she did.

There, on a mannequin, right atop her doormat, was the most gorgeous dress she'd ever seen, and a feathered mask to match. The dress was a deep blue color, full-skirted, with silver beads placed in order to resemble the night sky. The bodice was corseted and shapely, beaded with more silver into intricate swirls and bursts. The mask would cover the top half of her face, and was delicately feathered in gray and dark blue. The dress was sleeveless, and a small bag hung from the top of the mannequin, containing matching ribbons and combs for the hair. Underneath the poofy skirt were dark blue satin pumps with the same silver-beading design as the bodice. How could this all be for her? It was far too beautiful to be real. None of this made sense, and yet, it was just what she needed. Sarah eagerly took the finery back into her room, placing it at the foot of her bed, and staring at it for the next hour. What else was there to do?

It was far past midnight once Sarah drifted off to sleep, candles reluctantly snuffed out and four blankets piled atop her bed. She'd been texting her stepmother to assure her everything was perfectly fine, and she was wishing her, her dad, and Toby all the best for Christmas. But the silence of the falling snow had forced sleep upon Sarah's body, and she had easily given into the impulse. Only too late had an owl passed by her window, flapping its wings wildly and soaring away, cooing and singing gently for her. Only for her.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The moonlight-white owl landed gently onto a snow-caked branch and cooed into the silence. The wind was strong and bitter cold, as most New England winter winds tend to be. Jareth tried avoiding this particular section of the human world as much as possible, but since Sarah was living there now, he couldn't exactly avoid it. Within the safety of the dark branches he transformed into a demure human form and leapt from up high down to the grounds of the Boston Common. The city lights were weak, only highlighting parts of the park's walkways. Jareth inhaled deeply, sensing nothing but chilled misery amongst the creatures in the vicinity. Keeping low to the ground, he kept watch for any human who might have seen him jump; luckily, there was no one. After a few minutes, the Goblin King straightened up and emerged from the shadows of the small forest, treading lightly down the pathway towards the city streets. Few cars were speeding up and down the lanes at this time of night; the ones that were, obviously were being operated by inebriated passengers. Jareth crossed at a crosswalk, making his way down a long side street and into a dark alleyway, in between multiple apartment buildings and a couple of run-down Irish pubs. The place he was searching for was called the Black Violet, a somewhat-gothic and vile mess of a bar that attracted many a local Fae, Blood Nymph, Gargoyle, or any other such creature passing through the historic city needing a bit of relaxation and entertainment. Being a Goblin King, Jareth had always believed the place to be incredibly far below his royal standards, but at this late hour, it was his only option. Seeing Sarah in such dire living quarters had, indeed, ruffled his feathers.

As soon as he opened the rotted black door, he regretted it. The waft of over a hundred and fifty years' worth of scum and must hit his nostrils, forcing him to cough, and cover his face with the human scarf he had draped around his neck. Broken blacklights lit up the small room, highlighting the pale features of the female attendants lounging about the tables. A few dirty Fae and a goblin were clearly wasted and sleeping in a corner, tankards loosely gripped in their hands. One man had let his go, the spilled liquid creating a great black stain on his companion's silk shirt. The goblin was dressed in rags and snoring in a most obnoxious manner.

"May I help you, sir? Allow me to remove your coat." A pretty young Blood Nymph had approached him and placed a hand on his chest, smacking her lips excitedly.

Jareth hissed at her, laughing inwardly as she took a step back. "A drink, if you please. Bourbon."

"Certainly... Your Majesty," the girl curtsied as the man removed his outerwear, revealing his normal Fae clothing, and the royal pendant on display around his neck.

Jareth put his human coat on a small table and sat down. In typical fashion, the King rested a leg on the left armrest of his chair, sighing impatiently and forcing himself to look around the room. A couple of hookahs were on the table closest to him. Piles of yellowed newspapers were stacked by the bar. Miniature Victorian-era nude paintings lined the entrance doorway.

"Faster, won't you, wench? I haven't got all night."

"Yes sir…" the girl laughed nervously and brought him a glass and the bottle, curtsying and laughing more until she disappeared behind a purple velvet curtain in the back.

Jareth rolled his eyes and was about to take his first sip, when a head of ashen brown curls peeked out from behind the same curtain, making his heart leap. A small white hand gripped the curtain tightly, pushing it away to expose a bright blue eye. Jareth blinked. Soon there was a petite nose, and then a bow-like mouth, pinched in curiosity. Then the other eye was exposed. The King stood up suddenly, his chair falling backwards onto the floor. The goblin in the corner moaned in annoyance.

"Rose," Jareth whispered.

The girl batted her eyes a few times, lips softening in recognition of him. She brushed a stray curl behind her ear and stepped out from the curtain.

"You've barely aged at all, haven't you?" Rose mumbled, playing with the black lace glove on her left hand.

Jareth swallowed hard. "Are you a bl-"

"Yes. He almost did away with me. I've been here ever since. City's changed a lot in the past century, hasn't it, Your Majesty?"

"I… I wouldn't know. I try not to visit New England, when possible."

Rose approached him cautiously. The King stood rigid and continued to stare. She fixed his chair and motioned for him to be seated again. He acquiesced, though slowly. "Why are you working in this place?"

"I had nowhere else to go. I couldn't go back home, of course. My obituary ran in the newspapers for a day, but that was it. My family didn't come looking for me. They probably assumed I had been kidnapped…" The nymph seated herself across from him and leaned forward, showing off the most cleavage she could spare. "Taken by some evil-doing man with only one thought in his mind."

Jareth quirked an eyebrow, all traces of admiration gone from his eyes. "So you've whored yourself away for all these years? Shame on you."

Rose hissed gently. "Not half as much as my sisters, Jareth… Your Highness." She inclined her head out of deference. "You forget that I was originally pure at heart. I've only performed the services necessary in order to survive during these times." Her eyes flashed. "Nothing more."

"Yes, well, I suppose you couldn't very well help it, now, could you?" The King sipped from the bourbon bottle lazily. "My brother was never considerate of young ladies' wishes."

"Was?" The girl's eyes widened, lips trembling. "He is dead now, is he not? I thought as much. I felt something strange a few years back…"

"So did I. That was how I discovered him." Jareth pushed the bottle away and ran a gloved hand through his hair. "Bathing in his own blood."

Rose shivered and sniffed, a black tear dripping from her eyes. "The poor thing. He was ferociously handsome, I must say," she smiled faintly. "It must run in your family."

Jareth put a finger beneath her chin and forced her gaze upon him. "Is that supposed to be a compliment, my child?"

The girl's eyes darkened, and she laughed. "Would that be only a moderate boost to your ego, or should I aim for something a bit… _larger_?" The King's eyebrows raised as the girl placed an icy hand high up on his thigh.

"As much as I am enjoying this, I must admit, I'm not used to the idea of my pretty Rose being so terribly… _corrupted_," he growled, taking the hand in his and raising it to his lips. "And may I remind you that Fae and Nymphs don't mix very well?"

"I believe I could make an exception‚ even if you are the Goblin King."

He puffed out his chest, baring his teeth. "My blood compels me to take you up on that offer, dear one… Unfortunately, I am otherwise spoken for."

Rose sobered quickly, withdrawing her hand and turning away. "Of course you are. How could I have guessed any differently?" She sighed and stood up, smoothing her pinstripe skirt and adjusting her corset top. "I was _only_ human."

"Rose," the King grabbed her arm, lowering his voice in confidence. "I… I didn't think you were still alive. Had I known… things might have been… Maybe I could have-"

"What? Saved me? From this glory I now have attached to my name, as long as I linger here?" Black streaks began to line her porcelain face. "That was a long time ago, Jareth. Indeed, in that amount of time, you have forgotten me."

"No." He brought the girl into his lap and held her tightly. "No, my girl, I have not forgotten you. Don't you ever believe that."

"Let me go, Jareth, I…"

"Hush. I still care for you. You're the only person from my past I still care about. Don't forget that. I may act like a spoiled bastard most of the time, and that is because I am one. But you must know that I never, ever forgot you. Not for one moment."

The girl's tears left stains on his white shirt. Despite a century's worth of supernatural suffering, Rose was like a human child in Jareth's arms. And, despite his moody and ruffled disposition, being the Goblin King had certainly taught Jareth a thing or two about comforting upset humans.

"I must go. The Mistress will whip me if I stay out for too long. Unless… you'd like to come back with me."

"If only I could, my child. But be strong. Maybe I will come back to visit one day…"

"Would you? Oh, please?" Rose jumped up, wiping the tears from her face. "No one ever comes to visit me anymore. That would be the greatest thing in the world!"

Jareth watched her solemnly. "Of course I will. I promise you." He rose from his seat, taking his long woolen coat and shrugging it on. "It may be sooner than you think."

The girl giggled and wrapped the scarf around his neck. "There you are, now. Please take care, and have a good night, Your Majesty." She curtsied low, winking at him, and strutted back to her place behind the curtain.

The King stared after her for a moment, smiling gently. The things Rose could do to his heart, he would never understand. He placed a few brassy coins onto the table, tucking the bourbon bottle into his coat and rushing out the door. He heard a low chime once the doorjamb hit the lock.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

_Princess of the Fae: *__smiles innocently*_

_Lylabeth1: Thanks so much my dear! Hope you enjoy it!_

_hisangel18: *__attempts in vain to get a word in edgewise* __Um… No, see… gah… Remember how he met Rose almost a century before Sarah? Rose was one of the three women that he had actually come to care for in his life. They'd had only about two weeks together, and then she had been taken from him suddenly by Zanaphel. And, besides that, he very well knows he must remain true to his promise, especially since Sarah is human. The Fae world, at least the one I've created, is much more lenient about 'sleeping around'. They wouldn't consider it such as crime as we would. But, even though the prospect is tempting for him, Jareth knows not to go there. He can only care for Rose in a distant fashion from now on._

_Okay, everyone! Here's the fourth chapter! Hope you all had lovely Christmases/Boxing Days/etc. Just some filler before the big scenes!_

* * *

Sarah sat on the bed in a crisscross fashion, wrapped in a thick blanket and drinking ramen. She stared blankly at her new space heater, something she had bought at the Salvation Army the day before. Today was Thursday the 24th- Christmas Eve. It was exactly two hours before the Christmastide Ball would start, yet she remained in her pajamas and was completely unmotivated to get ready. Was there truly any point? She imagined herself arriving at the ball only to be taunted and gawked at by the other party guests- just as they had in her crystal dream six years past.

_The crystal._

Sarah's eyes unwillingly drifted to the set of drawers which stood next to her closet. The bottom drawer, as she very well knew, contained the crystal Jareth had given her the last time they had been together… the crystal that played a song for her when she held it close to her heart. The music would somehow seep through her skin, allowing her blood to dance in gentle vibrations, blue and purple waves crashing over her flesh and bones. It was his voice, humming so sweetly, a song just for her.

She hadn't slept with the crystal in her hand for over a year. Sarah had begun to give up on Jareth ever coming back for her, even though-very occasionally- the silver engagement ring on her finger would pulse with a green glow. She wondered, in the back of her mind, how she could dare to doubt his promises. Jareth had made it very clear to her how much he cared for her, and in return, she had done the same. But so much of their time together had felt like a long and elaborate dream, that Sarah occasionally doubted her sanity. All she knew was that she had spent three precious years waiting for a man who might as well be considered a mythological creature, instead of going out and dating and partying like a normal young woman should be doing. It was almost embarrassing at times, when people would question her virginity, and she had to reply in the affirmative. Sometimes she would lie to save face, but everyone would simply laugh at her inexperienced vocabulary.

Sarah put down her cup of ramen onto the end table and sighed. The dress was beautiful and perfect, and she wanted, more than anything, to wear it. The night, however, didn't seem right. The snow had melted from days before, leaving slush and puddles all over Boston's streets and sidewalks. And Sarah was barely in a cheery mood. If she wasn't able to pay her bills soon, she would be facing eviction- which would be both devastating and embarrassing. She would be a failure as an adult, as a college student, and as a daughter- she couldn't imagine facing her father if she failed. Stress and fear gripped her heart, and tears raced down her cheeks onto her itchy Christmas sweater. How had she dug such a hole for herself?

Sarah grit her teeth and ripped the silver ring off of her finger, throwing it at the wall and wailing.

"Fucking Goblin King, doesn't care what I'm going through, does he? Liar, liar…" she crumbled onto her bed and tossed about helplessly, sobs wracking her body, straining her vocal cords. "Such a retarded, silly, stupid kid. Look where I am, look at me…"

**Knock. **

Sarah gulped and paused on her bed. The chimes again? She should take those things down…

**Knock.**

No, it was coming from the door. Crap, she had been making too much noise. Wiping the tears and snot from her face on her sleeve, she quickly rose from her bed and stumbled to the door.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'll be quiet now…" Sarah twisted the knob and opened the door a crack.

"Good evening, Miss Williams. Are you ready to leave?"

An older gentleman dressed in striking finery was waiting on her doormat, hands clasped behind his back in a posture of formality. His long gray hair was coiffed elegantly, tied at the nape of his neck with a gold ribbon. The ponytail flowed down one side of his chest, curling at the end. Sarah was surprised to find him almost…handsome…

"I'm sorry, what? Is this about the ball?"

"Of course it is, good woman. I can see you are not quite ready-"

"To be honest, sir, I wasn't planning on attending. There's been a lot going on lately, and-"

"Oh, but you must attend, Miss Williams. There is no argument to be had. Besides, I am to be your escort." The gentleman stood up straighter, a sly smirk present on his gently lined face. "You wouldn't deny an old man the pleasure of your… most _attractive_ company…" His eyes grew darker as he pushed the door open a bit wider to gaze at her figure. The rest of his words caught in his throat, and he stepped towards her.

"Excuse me, sir-"

"My dear Miss Williams, how you've grown so," the man remarked, visibly entranced by her personage.

Sarah's eyebrows drew together. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

The gentleman bit his lip and withdrew. "Get dressed. You have half an hour. I will wait here." With that, he firmly shut the door, leaving Sarah's knees shaking and her mouth agape. He had appeared to be the shell of a man hiding the most gruesome of wolves, ready to pounce on her vulnerable self. The more she thought about it, Sarah knew that she would not have resisted. This scared her.

With no other option to be had, the girl reluctantly stripped out of her day clothes and slipped the elaborate dress over her head. The material was luxurious and sensual. Looking at herself in the mirror, Sarah couldn't help but smile. In a sweeping rush, she teased her hair at the crown of her head and weaved the ribbons through the ebony strands, creating an elaborate chignon. She curled the stray hairs that fell out from the sides, and quickly applied a thin layer of makeup to her pale face. Sarah panicked when she realized she only had five minutes left before the gentleman would come into the room. She grabbed a bottle of old perfume from atop her dresser, spritzing the honeyed scent behind her ears, at her cleavage, onto her wrists, and a bit into her hair. Simple blue studs were the only matching earrings she could find, and Sarah knew that she had to find her engagement ring. She was on her knees searching under the cold heater when the door creaked open slowly.

"Miss Williams, are you quite ready?" the gentleman sighed.

Sarah grabbed the ring and placed it on her finger before he could see. "Yes, I am now," she said over her shoulder. She gathered up her skirts and stood, pulling a black coat over her shoulders and taking hold of a silver coin purse.

"You have forgotten one thing, my dear," the man purred, picking up the feathered mask from atop Sarah's dining table.

"Oh…"

"May I?" He had her turn from him as he slipped the mask over her face and tied the blue ribbon into her hair. Sarah inhaled sharply when his lips touched the skin under her ear. "You will dance with me tonight, I presume?"

Her insides clenched in pain. "Of course…"

"Wonderful. We must be on our way, then." The gentleman escorted Sarah from her decaying apartment and led her down the few flights of stairs, out into the chilly city streets. A 1920's-style cab was waiting for them by the curb. Before she could make an exclamation, Sarah found herself in the car, and sitting in the dark across from the mysterious old man. They were on their way through the crowded streets to a ball she would never forget...


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_hisangel18: Hahaha :P_

_Lunawolf1300: I will, definitely :)_

_pyewacket-moonlite: Aw! Glad you're enjoying it my dear!_

* * *

The bells from the nearest clock tower chimed the hour as Sarah's cab pulled up to the Redheart Hotel. The ride had mostly been spent in silence, with odd shadows passing over the older gentleman's face as they traveled in the dark. There was a familiar glint in his misty eyes that Sarah could not place, but she was certain she had seen it somewhere before. Upon arrival, the driver left the front seat to open the cab door, holding out his hand for Sarah to take.

"Thank you very much, sir…" her voice trailed off as the splendor of the Christmas lights caught her attention, gleaming with festive cheer in the bitter night air. Green, red, and white fairy lights encircled the massive overhang which led to the grand front entrance. Oversized kissing balls swayed in the wind, dangling with ribbons and pine boughs, sparkling with gently dusted snow. The gentleman came up behind her, wrapping his strong arm about her waist and leaning in close.

"This is just the beginning of the evening's splendor, my dear. Leave some of your awe for later!" he smiled, gazing at her attentively. Sarah gave a nervous chuckle and allowed herself to be led into the front lobby; the walls were lined in blood-red wallpaper, and the lighting was low. The gentleman pulled a gold-and-silver mask over his lined face and presented himself to a man dressed in black, guarding the gilded double-doors.

"Miss Sarah Williams, escorted by Earlkrig Faenit," he whispered. The man in black nodded, and opened the doors for the couple.

Sarah was not sure what she had expected, but it was certainly nothing like this.

The ballroom was expansive, extending far and away from the relatively small entrance. Large stained-glass windows depicting scenes of romance and conquest lined the walls to the east and west. Numerous couples, garbed in all sorts of colors and fabrics, waltzed and paraded across the cherry-wood floor. Gay laughter could be heard above the din of strings and harpsichord, echoing up into the rafters of the old hotel's finest function room. Sarah was aware of her name being announced behind her, and of many masked heads turning in her direction. She inclined her head and looked up at her escort, who inclined his head in turn, bowing and smiling.

"Shall we?" he said, taking her hand and placing it on his shoulder. Sarah nodded, taking his other hand in hers. Earlkrig embraced her form with his arm, and the two began a waltz, in time with the rest of the party's attendants. In the back of her mind, Sarah could never remember learning how to waltz. Maybe it was just one of those things that you pick up as you go along; once you start, you understand how to move your feet, and your body, and your head sort of goes along with it.

The elegant man's eyes never left hers; he seemed almost unaware of the rest of the gala's guests, or of the divine room they were spinning about in, or of the gorgeous music they were dancing to. Sarah, however, was forever entranced by the ceiling's glittering antique chandelier, sparkling with magical candlelight. The room was filled with scents of expensive perfume, dark chocolate, pine, peppermint, and champagne. Some of the darker corners of the rooms were filled with pillows, where the more influenced company was giggling and fondling their partners in drunken stupor. Sarah was suddenly aware of a pair of lips at her neck. She leaned her head back and sighed.

"You are a most exquisite young woman, my dear," the man whispered, purring low and continuing to place kisses along the length of her neck.

"Why… are you doing this?" she slurred, vaguely aware of the gentleman's actions. Her head was abuzz with the atmosphere; her mind was far away.

"Why shouldn't I?" Earlkrig chuckled, raising his head and leading her further into the crowd of swirling perfumes and glossy fabrics. Laughter played itself into her ears, echoing and bouncing off the walls of her subconscious. The beauty of the movements was slowing down to the point of otherworldy motion; there was no possible way that people could normally move in such a smooth fashion. Limbs were graceful; there was no hint of mistake or accident. Each and every motion made by the dancing revelers meant something that Sarah did not understand. There seemed to be some underlying motive to the entire gathering. They all seemed to know something that she did not.

In a sudden moment, there was the opening of the gilded doors, and a flash of black. The lights in the room dimmed, and smoke filled the air. Candles floated in mid air, reflecting off of glassy surfaces. Voices died down to swirling whispers. The older gentleman was immediately gone from Sarah's side. She was aware that she was standing in the middle of the ballroom floor, and that the other guests were no longer dancing. The stained-glass windows were almost coming alive, lit up by the candles' warm glow.

The dancers bowed. An elegant figure had swept through the entrance, his hair glittering, eyes severe and demanding. No one dared to give him a direct glance… except for Sarah. She stayed right in her place, unmoving, unblinking. It was him. Was it not? Her betrothed. Her Goblin King.

His eyes swept over the crowd lightly, vaguely acknowledging the presences of everyone else in the room- but the man was striding forward, directly to the woman in blue and silver. The possessiveness in his gait was visible; the magnetism in his movements clarified once he locked eyes with the girl, that Sarah creature who had temporarily destroyed his kingdom. The King's attraction to his Champion was not a surprise, the crowd whispered. The news of their engagement had been expected.

Sarah removed her mask and tightened her lips. Jareth continued towards her, releasing his cloak and letting it fall to the floor behind him. The markings around his eyes had grown darker since last she saw him; his eyebrows more severe. The King's presence was much more commanding than Sarah had remembered. She took a shaky breath, realizing that she was presently trembling. His stride was somehow seductive, boots silently hitting the floor, posture tall and military, structured with wisdom and strength. Jareth was wearing an outfit of regality; fitted jacket lined in scarlet and black, shirt white and loose with ruffles and lace, tucked into black fitted pants. His boots were similar to the ones he usually wore- except the heels were even higher, and the leather tightly laced around his calves.

Sarah gasped as he gave her a small smirk. He stopped just a few feet before her and bowed low.

"Miss Sarah, it has been far too long…" Jareth smiled, taking her hand in his and kissing it tenderly. His voice was much richer than she remembered. Everything about him was better…

"Where have you been?" She blurted out, covering her mouth when his eyebrow quirked dangerously.

"Tsk, tsk. That is not the way to address a king, now, is it?" Jareth's lips tightened into a thin line as he took her into his arms. "I would prefer a more respectful tone in the future."

Sarah's head was clearing. "I apologize, Your Majesty," her brow quirked in turn. "But what is all this? Why am I here? Why are you here? What-"

Jareth hissed at her quietly. "You ask far too many questions, Miss. Besides, you seemed perfectly content before."

"You mean, you were the-"

The King chuckled at her confused expression. "Not quite, love. Old Earlkrig was my eyes and ears, but no, he was not I. I didn't know what you would do if I had simply shown up on your doorstep. I feared a massive amount of yelling, or a few bruises on my shoulders, or a hand-shaped mark on my cheek. But I knew that if I met you in the middle of a large ballroom, you wouldn't dare perform such a scene."

Sarah's nostrils flared, ignoring his widening grin. "He was flirting with me."

"He is Fae, as is most everyone else in this room," the King's eyes scanned the crowd. "Our kind feed off of affection. Surely you have noticed this by now."

"How could I? I've barely been around any others, except for you!" Her voice rose.

Jareth bared his teeth and loosened his embrace. "You are to dance with me now. We will continue this headache of a conversation later."

"Don't tell me what to do-"

"Sarah, I am warning you… do as I say. Don't defy me," his voice lowered to a dangerous octave as his eyes sparked with annoyance.

The girl gulped down her last defense and allowed the man to wrap an arm around her waist possessively. The music grew louder as the party continued their leisurely dance. Sarah fell back into a waltz, much more structured and intentional with Jareth as her partner. In the lower light, more couples were fleeing to the shadows, and soft moans began to intermingle with the merry laughter…

* * *

_I will update soon!_

_Reviews would be most appreciated! :D_


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_MusicOverMatter: Oh goodness! Haha. Your critique made me so happy when I first read it. Thank you so much for, not only your praise, but your criticism as well. I will agree that his actions are almost unjustified… yet, I do hope that you will bear with me! This story will not be as… light as LCBtD was. I'm glad you are liking it overall! And my deepest apologies for taking so long. It was not my original intent._

_Honoria Granger: Bahahaha, thank you so much for correcting me! I made the proper adjustment after I read your comment. I'm glad you like it, as well!_

_Senshi at Heart: Thank you, dear! Unfortunately I was not as prompt as you hoped, but here it is now!_

_-Yes, lovely readers, thank you so so much for bearing with me on this. I was having an incredible amount of writer's block, so I had to step back for a while and do some major RP'ing, writing, and a bit of character development… but now I'm back on track with everything. Let's hope the story will continue running more smoothly for a while! I love you all terribly! Hope your new semesters are starting out strong :D_

* * *

The evening rushed by in a candlelit blur. Sarah had no way to justify anything that was occurring around her, or in front of her. She and Jareth danced away in complete silence- sometimes avoiding each other's eyes, and sometimes staring at each other for moments upon moments, curious lights flashing in their pupils. Sarah tried to smile, but found she could not- confusion had constricted her body movements; her dancing was evolving into robotic footwork, and Jareth was, visibly, unsatisfied. Finally, after a song had ended, he took her firmly by the waist and led her from the dance floor to a quiet corner. He shooed away a handsy couple and reclined onto the satin pillows, leaning back and sighing with ease. Sarah awkwardly settled down beside him and wrung her hands. Another lovely melody began from the small orchestra, filling the room with pleasurable music. Sarah felt her eyelids go heavy, and she put a clammy hand to her face. Jareth looked at her, his eyebrows drawing together with severity.

"You are unwell."

"No kidding," she remarked, sighing and wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

The King grit his teeth. "It's been almost three years, child, and you expect me to know everything about you?"

Sarah's head shot up, flashing her green eyes into his mismatched blue. "Why did you not come to me? You said you were going to watch me. I have been suffering ever since I graduated from my high school. I am on the brink of poverty. I am running myself into the ground, and am going to fail in everything I have been working so hard for. You have the… the… audacity to…"

"Your situation is regrettable, that I will not deny," Jareth's lips curled. "I hate to see you in such dire circumstances, more than anything in the world. But I didn't wish to interfere. You needed to live a human life, you needed to see what it was like, Sarah."

"So you allowed your _princess_ to endure all of this, sir?" Sarah was trembling, her voice breaking. "After everything you promised me? After all that you assured of me? How could you?"

Jareth stared off into space, his mind running wild. He considered reversing time a little, maybe even by a year, and helping Sarah. Then maybe he wouldn't be finding himself in such a frustrating situation. But, he knew he couldn't. It would be deceitful. He took a deep breath and sat up, looking down his nose at the exasperated young woman.

"…Forgive me, precious. I had not anticipated your lifestyle would become so difficult. I had not anticipated… most everything." He ran a hand through his hair quickly, shaking it out. "I promise you we will discuss this all in further detail. But, for now, cannot we try to have a pleasant rest of the evening?"

Sarah felt hot tears spark at her eyes, but she quickly brushed them away. He had to have a good explanation. There must have been some legitimate reasoning. She probably just couldn't understand it, or figure it out. She was currently at a Fae ball, and the lights were low, and the music was enchanting, and the King of the Goblins was resplendent and sitting right at her side. Sarah would think about this later. Yes, she would have to.

"…Very well, Your Highness." She placed her hand atop his and squeezed it gently. "As long as you promise we will talk later."

"I promise, dear one," the King smiled, pulling her close to him and kissing her forehead. Before she could register the action, Sarah had inhaled his scent and clung to him tightly, nestling into the base of his glowing chest. Jareth rested his head atop hers and began to stroke her hair. "I have missed you," he whispered.

"And I you," Sarah breathed, her body reacting to the proximity between herself and him. It may have been three years since she had last felt his embrace, but being this close to him again made the time feel much shorter.

"You are… incredibly stunning," Jareth whispered, leaning down and tickling her ear with his sweet breath. Sarah grinned in spite of herself and looked down at her dress. She played with the edge of her skirt absently.

"Yes, this gown must have cost far more than I could hope to-"

"No, Sarah," Jareth took her hand in his and kissed it warmly. "I meant you."

Her heart leapt as she saw a tender spark cut through his pupils. "Oh, Jareth, I…"

"Please, allow me to compliment you. I do not give them out lightly."

Sarah's breast heaved as she inhaled, biting her lip. "T-thank you, sir."

The King smiled softly, giving her cheek a tender touch. Sarah fingered the edge of his collar, and allowed her touch to run under his neck. The orchestral bliss swelled, and she inched closer to him, her lips trembling with anticipation. Jareth almost seemed like he would allow her to kiss him, as his lips parted and eyelashes fluttered… until he placed a finger on her lips and sighed.

"Do not tempt me, Sarah. We are in public."

The girl's confusion burst onto her face. "Why should that matter to you? Our engagement has been announced! And everyone else-"

"We are not everyone else, love. I am much older now than when I was a lascivious brat in the court. I no longer display more intimate affections in such a manner."

"But…" The confusion on Sarah's face was soon replaced by gentle anger. "But I love you."

Jareth's lips drew into a line, and he exhaled deeply. "I know that, Sarah…" His gaze traveled up to the thinning crowd of dancers, and made to stand. "Forgive me, there is a matter that must be taken care of."

Sarah fell off of his lap into the oversized pillows, huffing, and watched him stride over to the other side of the ballroom. Tears filled her eyes once more, and she picked up her skirts in a rush. Not looking where she was going, Sarah bumped into multiple couples as she rushed far away from the piles of pillows, the crowds, and anything else remotely related to the Fae traditions. Jareth had made her feel special, but only for a fleeting second. He was obviously distracted. He didn't really care about her, at least, not that night. Her face wet with doubt and pain, Sarah grabbed her shawl from off a peg just inside the door, ran out to the dark city streets and found the old-fashioned cab sitting on the sidewalk.

"Taxi!..." she called.

* * *

Jareth's heart was still beating fresh from the touch of Sarah's skin when he reached a group of black-clad gentlemen lounging on a smaller stack of pillows. One of them was just finishing a sip of wine when they saw him and immediately stood up to bow.

"Yes, yes, thank you, good sirs. I was curious as to if one of you could… perform a service for me," his voice lowered in discretion. The men leaned in, one nodding in interest. He was the first to speak.

"Anything, Your Highness."

"A young Nymph girl, Rose…" Jareth's lips trembled at her name. "I require her to be turned back."

All three of the men raised their eyebrows in shock. "But, sire! No one has turned a Nymph back since- since-"

"I understand it is a near-impossible task, gentlemen, but I beg of you…" The King's face shattered into an unreadable emotion. "Please… whoever takes on the task and succeeds will be well-compensated."

The men immediately put their heads together, whispering with animation. Jareth stood, tapping his foot with impatience. Soon, they broke apart, and the man who had originally protested stepped forward. "I will try with my utmost, Your Majesty." He bowed graciously, and the King nodded.

"Thank you, Eliean. She resides at the Black Violet… please reach me when you are finished. And‚" Jareth's eyes went dark, "bring the girl with you."

The red-haired Fae scuttled off through the double-doors. Jareth nodded to the other two men as they bowed, and rushed off back through the crowd. His heart immediately leapt when he discovered the lack of Sarah's form resting on the pillows. Jareth pushed the remaining couples out of the way and desperately searched the expansive length of the room for her. After many minutes of searching and interrogating the innocent merry-makers, the King shuffled back to the empty corner and sighed heavily, almost breathless. A small sparkle on one of the pillows caught his attention, as it perfectly matched the ones on Sarah's dress. As he reached for it, he saw it was, in fact, the mask she had been wearing when he had first walked into the ballroom. Jareth's eyebrows narrowed, and he bit his lip, kneeling helplessly onto the pillows.

"Oh, Sarah…"


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_(Trigger warning- thoughts of cutting.)_

* * *

It had all been a dream, hadn't it?

A beautiful, sensual, marvelous, intoxicating dream.

The fascinating glitter-man with the sexual eyes had promised to keep her safe, and watch over her. He was supposed to be her guardian angel- er- owl. She wouldn't be alone in this world. This life wouldn't get to her.

But it had. Almost immediately after she left high school, life had truly fucked her over. Sarah's semi-famous mother had been seduced by a wealthy older man into his sprawling apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan… only to be drugged and raped. After that, the former Mrs. Williams immediately withdrew from show-business altogether and checked into a mental facility. She couldn't handle the shame.

Then, shortly after beginning college, Sarah's roommate Claire had thrown a bong party in their dorm room, causing them both to be evicted from college housing and strongly encouraged to find their own place. But Claire had decided that college wasn't for her, leaving Sarah to seek work immediately and rent the cheapest apartment she could find- the one she was currently occupying.

Busily juggling work and school and sleep, Sarah had no time for a social life. Her jobs frequently changed and shifted, each earning her the bare minimum wages required to survive. She was starved- both from lack of food, and lack of life. She felt betrayed by the world. It was stomping her all over, crushing her into the ground. Everything hurt. The sun was too bright. Her blood always pounded in her ears. Time moved far too slowly. She could hardly stand it…

* * *

A loud moan woke her up. Sarah sat up with a start, only to hazily realize it had been her own. Her eyes traveled slowly downward, taking in her naked body on top of the ratty patchwork quilt. The magic dress lay crumpled in a heap in front of her door. She must have tumbled into bed as soon as she arrived home. Sarah was almost surprised not to see Jareth smirking away in her chair, tapping his boot on the floor and making some double-entendtre'd remark. But why, of course, would he be? The night before came rushing back to her with a loud roar, and her face hit the pillow, curling up fetally and wailing, struck and overcome by everything and nothing at all. Once her pillow was uncomfortably wet, she forced herself to cease crying and wipe her face with her dry palms. The feeling was disgusting, and Sarah instantly wiped her hands on the quilt, registering the bitter taste in her mouth and the snot dripping from her nose. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, head falling forward enough to make her neck ache with the stretch. The cascade of her hair sheltered her from the apartment, veiling her from the cold world. A few more tears passed from her eye ducts, hitting her thighs soundlessly. She blankly registered the dark curls between her legs, the birthmark on her right knee, the tiny red bumps that lined her thighs. Sarah bit her lip hard and shut her eyes, further curling into herself to prevent the beast from ripping her apart. That's what it was now, her depression. A filthy, slimy, horrid beast, waiting to feast on her insides and slowly digging her grave.

Before she knew it, her hand was turning the faucet in her bathtub. But she stopped it, and sighed. Nothing would matter, cold nor hot. She wouldn't be able to feel it, anyway. She sank down into the empty tub and gazed over the tops of her knees, dusty with dryness and neglect. The little wrinkles at each cap appeared as massive caverns, ready to swallow her right up and chew her bones. Sarah was heaving, and she grabbed a small pair of scissors from off the side of the tub, ones she typically used for personal trims. Opening the scissors and gripping the blades under her fingers, she placed the closer blade over her white forearm. Sarah watched as a blue vein twisted and slithered beneath her skin, anxious to bleed with the first slice. She quickly dropped the scissors and gagged, clasping her palms over her mouth as she coughed. She couldn't do it. She simply couldn't do it. Not now.

The vein continued to dance.

* * *

Eliean dropped to the ground and twisted his head, making sure he was not being followed nor watched. He shuddered with the wind, watching it drift up and down the ancient brick buildings, through the narrow alley, and over the rusting gates. Swirls of lavender ivy hung from the roof of the Black Violet, and the Fae stood, running a hand through his red mane and analyzing the situation. He was going to distract the mistress of the tavern by setting off three Crystal Blooms. Once she had fled, he would sneak in and find the Rose girl, grab her, and transport to a separate location, where he would attempt the beginning processes of Transformation on her. Eliean had the plan, but he lacked strength in the areas of bravery and communication. How was he to pull such a thing off? Blood Nymph mistresses were brute monsters. And how was he to explain this situation to the girl? Would she understand? Did she know that the King wanted her? Before he could answer his questions, two young nymphs sidled out the back entrance, carrying baskets full of clothes with them. He hushed and transformed into his mouse form, scuttling through the snow and into the small courtyard of the Black Violet. One girl was speaking presently.

"…and she 'as no family. I'd be worried, though. I think she 'as the cough."

"You can't be -serious-, Belinda… why, she's always been a healthy thing."

"Yeah, but… per'aps 'er time is drawing to a close. Per'aps… she 'as been chosen as a sacrifice to…"

"Chranabog isn't real. I thought you knew better. He's just a made-up god."

"But the mistress prays to 'im night 'an day… Sometimes 'er eyes change to green, I swear on me life!"

The two women began shaking out the clothes, ridding them of the dust and dirt that were caked all over the fabrics.

"Anyway… if you ask me, Rose'll be gone within the coming week, I reckon. She be looking pale as Satan 'imself!"

Eliean froze. Rose was sick? With a 'cough'? What type of cough? In any case, this meant trouble. Transformations had to be performed on Nymphs of peak health and ability… otherwise, they were doomed to die in the process. He couldn't stay here. He had to tell Jareth. As quickly as he came, Eliean raced to another alleyway, returning to his Fae form, and sighed. What would he say?…

* * *

The cracks of dawn lit up the blinds, and the mirror, and the bed. Sarah skimmed a hand over her thigh and she blinked, nestling further into her pillow. The day could wait for a little while. It was only Christmas. Her parents and brother would probably call around noon to wish her merry and well. It would take all of her strength and willpower left to sound normal. She would probably lie and say she had plans for that afternoon, with a few friends at a restaurant, or something. They would believe her, since they thought she could accomplish anything. They wouldn't even guess at her true situation.

After dozing once again, a sharp knock heralded itself at her door, and Sarah jumped off the bed, wrapping herself in a thin robe and answering the door. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of bright, perky, early-bird Mrs. Webb standing on the other side.

"Good morning, Sarah, dear! I apologize for waking you so early, but I wanted to wish you the merriest of Christmases!" The skin around her eyes crinkled with a warm smile, and Sarah's lips twitched.

"T-thanks, Mrs. Webb. Same to you…"

"I was wondering, dear, if you were visiting with anyone today, or if you have any plans?"

"Um… I think I-"

"Because, if you don't, my son Evan is coming from Brookline to have dinner with me, and I thought you might like to join us! He's a decent boy, he is, and he'll be more than open to having company!"

Sarah scratched her head at all these words and yawned into her sleeve. "I, erm, suppose I could drop by-"

"WON-derful! I will expect you at five, then… don't be late!" The woman smiled again and winked, turning on her heel to return to her apartment. Sarah sighed and shut her door.

_Dammit, now I -do- have plans_, she thought, shrugging off the robe and laying it over a kitchen chair. She approached the bed once more, and fell onto it, screaming for a moment into the flimsy mattress before turning her head.

"Merry Christmas, Sarah." She laughed once, harshly. "Merry fucking Christmas."

* * *

_Well HEYYY there, everyone... you must have all thought I kicked the bucket or something. Nope, just got lazy... incredibly, incredibly lazy..._

_In truth though, after that last chapter, I was petrified and had no idea where to go next. I had to talk out the plot and all my ideas with my bestie before I made a rough outline of this chapter... but, even then, that was about four months ago. So I just recently re-read both LCBtD and this story before deciding to boldly continue on my path of FanFic glory. Haha. That rhymes._

_But I feel completely awful for leaving you all so suddenly and unexpectedly. It was never my intention. So I pray you will forgive me, gentle readers, and stick with me through this fic... even if it takes much bleeding, sweating, and crying to churn out. I'm incredibly rusty on my writing habits, so I also pray for your forgiveness if anything is choppy or poorly worded. I love you all so, so very much. Take care._


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